On the sheet in my head where a one-eyed glob of paintbombs ariates on the nutritional value of pitchforkless villagers and the bad bad good docter is last-minute menufying fools from his Rolodex I picture my neighbor again kicking his unloved unlittle offleash landshark down the back steps to the … view

It says it’s not a monster, though you see its big fangs, smell the blood of its lungs. It’s always carrying a victim, a boy or a princess, claiming it’s trying to help bring this one back to life. … view

How do you pick up a Goth girl? With your knees, not your back. She tried to remember who told her that as she braced herself, took a deep breath, gripped the handles and pushed with arms, back and knees. But the goddamn wheel spun again before the … view